'No.' Murranus glanced down at her. 'We questioned those two veterans about that Pictish war band: has one survived, come to Rome, recognised his tormentors and decided to take revenge? However, there is another possibility: Postulus. Did someone close to him, a lover, a member of his family, discover he'd really been murdered by his own men?'
Claudia stood on tiptoe and kissed Murranus on the cheek. 'Yes, that is a possibility and one we must investigate.'
They continued down the alleyway into the square fronting the She Asses. Claudia glimpsed the two Vigiles, swords drawn, standing either side of the doorway.
'Oh no!' she moaned. 'Now what!' They hurried across. One of the Vigiles went to stop her then recognised her and stood back; he smiled at Murranus and waved them through the half-open door. Inside the eating room the captain of the Vigiles sat at a table with Poppaoe, Polybius and Apuleius; all three looked worried, whilst the captain appeared distinctly uncomfortable, as if something had happened that couldn't be bribed away.
'What's wrong?' Claudia walked towards them.
Polybius refused to hold her gaze.
'What's wrong, Uncle?'
'Tell her!' Poppaoe whispered, head down. 'You'd best tell her.'
'I won't just tell.' Polybius, much the worse for drink, staggered to his feet, swaying backward and forwards. 'Come with me.'
They climbed the stairs and went along the gallery to a guest chamber. Claudia's agitation deepened at the splinters of the wood lying outside. Something dreadful must have occurred. The door to the chamber had been forced, its bolts and clasps broken, shards of wood everywhere. Inside the small, narrow chamber, on a cot bed, sprawled the corpse of Theodore. One glance told her what had happened. The former actor looked ugly in death, his face podgy and white, mouth open, tongue sticking out, eyes popping.
'No!' Claudia groaned. 'Uncle, what happened?' She walked slowly across to the bed and felt the corpse's cheek, — it was cold, almost wax-like. She knelt down, pushing the corpse more securely on to the bed. Murranus helped her. She sniffed at the mouth and smelled nothing suspicious, but she could tell by the popping eyes, the rictus, the way the lips were forced back that Theodore had been poisoned. Death must have been fairly swift.
She got to her feet and turned round. Uncle Polybius stood in the doorway, one hand on the Vigiles' shoulder to steady himself.
'What you see is what we know,' Polybius pleaded. 'We were having such a marvellous celebration downstairs. The kitchen was doing a busy trade. Theodore left, saying he felt distinctly unwell, and came up here. I decided to invite him back down to keep an eye on him as you asked. So I came up, banged on the door, but he wouldn't answer. I got Oceanus to force it.' He gestured. 'It happened an hour ago, and now we've got trouble! I didn't ask him to come here, Claudia!'
'He's been poisoned.' Apuleius came up behind Uncle Polybius and forced his way through. 'Look around, Claudia.'
Claudia glimpsed the wine cup. It had rolled against the wall, a pool of wine around it. The stool next to the bed had also been knocked over as if Theodore had been lying on the bed and then become agitated, arms flailing, tipping over both the wine cup and the stool, trying to get himself up before collapsing back on to the bed.
'Do you know the cause?' Claudia asked.
Apuleius dug into the purse on his belt and handed the captain of the Vigiles a coin; the officer promptly disappeared. The apothecary and Polybius walked into the chamber, forcing the broken door shut behind them and placing the broken stool against it. For a while they helped Claudia and Murranus arrange Theodore's corpse along the bed, folding his hands over his stomach. Claudia had seen enough death that evening and, taking a coloured cloth from the wall, she covered the dead actor's face. She then sat on the floor, her back to the door, and stared up at her uncle.
'What caused this, what happened? I thought you'd look after him.'
'We did.' Polybius squatted down, sitting cross-legged like a schoolboy. 'We were enjoying ourselves. People were flocking in to see the Great Miracle. Apuleius was here. Theodore complained of a sensitive stomach. Anyway I could see he was beginning to sway, and I said perhaps it was time for a lie-down, take it easy for a while, so he came upstairs, and the rest you know.'
Claudia pointed at the corpse. 'Are you sure he was poisoned?'
'I think so.' Apuleius sat on the edge of the cot bed and stared sorrowfully at her. 'I don't know what noxious potion, some plant, but he has definitely been poisoned.' He gestured at the wine cup. 'I've checked that carefully, it's not to blame.'
'So that means somebody came into this tavern,' Claudia said slowly, 'and poisoned his wine or food.' She rose, picked up the wine cup, sniffed at it, ran her finger around it and tasted the faint dregs. 'Nothing but the best,' she muttered. She handed the cup to Apuleius, who scrutinised it again and pronounced the same conclusion.
'Ah well.' Claudia stared down at the corpse. 'What do we do now?'
'I'll get Narcissus the Neat to have a look at it.' Polybius clambered to his feet. 'Some of the lads owe me money, — they can take the corpse to the nearest death house.'
Claudia nodded, and Polybius opened the door for her. She went out on to the landing, down the stairs and into the moon-washed garden. She stood for a while, allowing the cool breeze to fan the heat of her face. Murranus came up behind her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. She turned, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.
'Sleep well,' she whispered and tweaked his ear. 'I've talked and listened enough for one evening — tomorrow it's General Aurelian's…'
Claudia and Murranus left just as dawn was breaking. They slipped out of the She Asses and along the dusty trackways leading to the Via Tusculana, which cut through the Severan Wall. Even though the sun had yet to rise, the city had come to life. At the top of the alleyway, Torquatus the Tonsor was busy preparing for business behind his stall under the gnarled sycamore tree, sharpening his razors on what he boasted was a special stone imported from Syria. He was full of chatter about magical stones, herbs and animals. He was already pontificating to a small group that had gathered. On any other occasion Claudia would have stayed to listen. Torquatus was fascinating, a born actor with an inexhaustible fund of stories, but General Aurelian, being an old soldier, would surely be an early riser, and it would be best to see him before the business of the day began.
The streets were filling with merchants as well as water-carriers, sweepers and rakers. The sewer men were out with their wheelbarrows emptying the latrines and cesspits, all shouting good-natured abuse at each other. The grimy cook-shops were open, the portable stoves and ovens being set up at judicious places to attract those who'd risen, as one notice brazenly proclaimed, 'with an empty stomach and a dry throat'. A funeral procession was gathering with professional mourners, priests and an Egyptian choir dressed in blue and scarlet head-dresses. A group of dancers from Spain, ejected from some tavern and desperate to earn money to buy from the water-carriers with their fresh supply, were offering to do a dance for anyone who'd pay them a couple of coins. Linen-clad, shaven-headed priests of some Babylonian god went by, guzzling wine, blowing horns, their long curled hair whirling in the breeze. Scholars, eyes swollen with sleep, staggered out for morning school whilst their mothers stood in the doorways of apartments and houses with brooms of green palms or twigs of tamarisk, heather and myrtle. Already the heralds were busy proclaiming what was on sale in the city, particularly the latest wigs, which could be found in a shop near the Temple of Hercules.
The day's heat was beginning to make itself felt, and by the time they reached the city gate, Claudia's lips and throat were bone dry. She and Murranus stopped at an ale booth to refresh themselves and wipe away the dust with cracked cups of fruit juice. They remained silent, not talking until they were out into the countryside, following the via as it cut through fields of ripening corn. After taking directions from a farmer, they left the road, going along a trackway which wound past cypress, plane and pine trees. On either side meadows and harvest land stretched up to the main gate of Aurelian's villa. Here the porter carefully inspected the seal Claudia carried bearing the imprint of the Empress and, on the reverse, an instruction ordering everyone on their allegiance to help its bearer with her enquiries. The gates were promptly swung open, and Claudia and Murranus entered another world, of pebbled paths, lawns, orchards, small copses of trees, fountains, pools of purity, all carefully laid out on either side of the path which swept up to the atrium of the magnificent villa.
At the house, servants greeted them with bowls of perfumed water so they could wash their hands and
